


Wine stories

by enterprisecat



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Drinking, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Meeting, First Time, M/M, Public Sex, Wine, general lack of plot, not chronological story telling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1647146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enterprisecat/pseuds/enterprisecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Wine enters through the mouth,<br/>Love, the eyes."</p><p>W.B.Yeats</p><p>A story about first meeting, first touches, first kisses and wine. Lots of wine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Madeira

**Author's Note:**

  * For [satismagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/satismagic/gifts).



> Self-beated because it's a surprise, which stayed on my hard drive long enough. A fragment of a bigger story that might one day get published as a whole.
> 
> Every part can be read as a whole, or as a part of something bigger.

**Sydney 2013**

 

The first thing Chris noticed upon entering  a room was a bottle of Madeira wine, which proudly stood on a nightstand. The second thing was Zach, who chose to sit on a windowsill, from all the possible places, ignoring both the very promising looking bed and a small couch.

After a photoshoot in the bright Australian sun and way too many interviews Chris wanted only to sleep. Zachary seemed to had other plans, though he didn’t react at first at Chris’s presence;  yet Chris could feel the anticipation in the air, the one preceding Zach’s wildest ideas. Like the clubbing in Berlin. Or that one night in Paris, memory of which forever imprinted in Chris’s amygdala.  

“You didn’t wake me up,” Zach complained finally from where he was perched in some inhuman position. Chris groaned inwardly; as soon as he confessed to his little night escapade to the ocean during one of the interviews, he’d recognized his mistake. The bright smile Zachary welcomed with every new interviewer paled and his gaze almost set Chris’s white Henley on fire.

“You slipped in a coma! Left me with Karl for ‘five minutes only, I need to grab fresh tee- shirt’ and never came back,” Chris protested, but he stepped closer to Zach and put his arms around him. Zach’s hair, finally free of gels, musses and various other substances, was tousled and tickled his nose. “I’m sorry,” he added when Zachary remained frozen in his embrace.

He did feel a little guilty about the spontaneous sneak-out from the hotel but Zachary’s state resembled Vulcan’s heal trance rather than normal sleep of a human being. The ocean looked way too promising so he simply grabbed the card key and left wearing his pajama pants  and an old tee shirt proudly proclaiming LET’S EAT GRANDMA. LETS EAT, GRANDMA. COMMA SAVES LIFE!  He was pretty sure the receptionist started laughing as soon as he disappeared from her sight.

“You can totally defenestrate me for my outrageous behavior,” Chris continued. “But first we will go to the beach.”

Zachary snorted and simply nuzzled him in silent agreement.

They left the hotel maintaining a safe distance between each other, which, in their case meant walking right in each other personal space. Yet, as soon as they found themselves in the relative darkness of the beach, with only making sweet eyes couple as possible witnesses, Zachary took Chris’s hand. It felt strange, thrilling to walk like this- they always limited their touches to the amount established during the first press tour. To a casual observer they might seemed completely at ease but the effort to stay within what is considered as platonic was constantly there. Chris tightened the hold and smiled. He always treasured the memories from the first promotional tour in Sydney, their little trip to the beach, a bottle of  an awful wine and Zach’s hand right next to his on the warm sand. It was only logical this time they should make them even more precious.

“That looks nice,” Zach decided after maybe twenty minutes of silent walk, looking at absolutely ordinary part of the beach. He folded himself in one of those impossible poses Chris remained jealous about, even after seven years of friendship, and handed the bottle to Chris.

The Madeira was very dry and strong, leaving sharp aftertaste on Chris tongue. He took another sip, enjoying its taste, before he gave it back to Zachary.

“22%”, Zachary murmured in appreciation and took a mouthful. “Good, not like the last time.”

“Last time you drunk almost everything!” Chris laughed and reached for the bottle. Yes, the Madeira definitely beat everything Chris had ever bought. With every sip it revealed new and unexpected aromas. They stayed silent as the bottle circled between them, enjoying the simple pleasure of the moment.

“Do you think satellites make photos of people making out in public places?” Zachary asked suddenly in a serious tone, his eyes fixed on the dark sky. Chris laughed and carefully put the bottle away.

“We can check,” he suggested slowly, unsurely. Today they  already broke one of their rules. Here, far from anyone, with only ocean as the quiet observer Chris felt even more daring; he leaned and kissed Zachary, softly, ready to retreat. He deepened the kiss, though, when strong hands kept him in place.

“It’s a research,” Zach murmured, between kisses. “Very scientific.”

He tasted like the wine, as intoxicating and powerful, making Chris forget they shouldn’t be doing this. Not in this open space, where anyone could see them. It was foolish, almost dangerous…

It was mind-blowing _hot_.

Chris wasn’t sure how he landed on the sand, with Zachary hovering over him with a predatory smile. A clear reminiscence of their first time together, minus a fluffy blanket. And the comfort of a couch. With beneficial lack of dogs in the nearest vicinity, though.

“You never shut up,” Zachary said fondly but the dangerous smile didn’t disappear. Chris realized he just spoken it aloud.

“Then do something about it,” he answered, his laughter turning into low hiss when Zachary opened the fly of his jeans. The touch of his fingers were gentle at first, almost hesitant, just a brush of finger tips on Chris’s quickly growing cock. He freed him skillfully and Chris gasped, feeling the warmness of Zach’s hand on his penis but it lasted mere seconds. He tugged desperately on Zachary’s shirt, but a distant sound of laughter made them froze.

“Chris,” Zachary whispered but didn’t move from his position.

“They are far,” Chris insisted a little breathlessly. He planted an openmouthed kiss on Zach’s jaw, loving the harshness of his stubble under his lips. Zach didn’t responded at first, listening out for sounds, but relaxed when they didn’t get any closer. He kissed Chris, strongly, biting his lower lip almost enough to draw blood, and stood up. For a moment they stayed like this- Chris half-laying on the sand and Zachary towering over him, both breathing hard but motionless. Finally Zach moved, slowly opening the fly of his jeans and Chris swallowed, silently thanking for ridiculously bright moonlight. Zachary must had been aware he could make Chris go crazy with desire like this but he preferred efficiency of expertly applied touch. Now, though, he offered Chris another of those predatory smile, slowly brushing along his own shaft and licked his lips. Was it the wine or the thrill of the open space, the possibility of being caught any moment? Chris didn’t know but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Zach’s movements grew faster, more forceful, the rhythm of his breath quickening and Chris moaned helplessly.

Zachary stopped and for a moment simply looked at Chris, his gaze intense. Chris knew he must have looked almost obscene, with his erection leaking precome against his stomach. His lips felt swollen and wet from the kissing.

“Zach,” he urged. Zach smiled and in one fluid movement straddled his hips, their cocks brushing together. Chris grabbed his wrist and planted kisses along every knuckle before taking finger and middle fingers into his mouth. Zachary gasped and for a moment simply thrust his hips but when Chris moaned lowly around his fingers he stopped and put his other hand around them both.

Chris hissed when sand grains sticking to Zach’s hand pricked him but the pleasure of being finally touch won with discomfort. He let go of Zach’s fingers and kissed him, messily, a clash of lips and tongues. Zachary grasped him by arm, hard enough to leave a bruise and groaned into his mouth. His moves were sharp and quick, almost brutal but they were everything Chris needed right now.   

“Zach,” he managed before he spilled all over Zach’s hands and gasping rested his head on his clavicle. Zach moaned, fastened the pace and soon he followed Chris with a soft , a little surprised “Oh”.

They sat together, breathing hard until Zach moved with a muttered: “Fucking sand!”.

Chris laughed and flopped down, still in post-orgasmic bliss, lazy and careless.

“Mhm,” he murmured feeling Zach’s attempts to make him presentable. “We should just jump into the ocean in our clothes.”

“And come back to the hotel dripping water everywhere?” Zach sounded doubtful but then he cursed quietly. “Well, it could work better than dripping semen everywhere.”

Chris laughed, his eyes closed, and patted the sand beside him. It was enough of an invitation for Zachary to lie down with a sigh and put his head on Chris’s chest. His skin was sweaty, hair sticking in every direction. Chris laughed again and looked up, at the sky filled with stars and satellites.

“You know what?” he asked. “I don’t care if anyone spied on us or made photos, satellites or  people.”

Zach only laughed, the sound bright and happy.

 

 

 

 


	2. The Merlot

**L.A. October 2006**

„I’m sorry. Sorry. Can I come through?” Chris groaned inwardly, he should have bought a new suit, made of some better material, rather than this awful mix of who-knows-what. The party crowd seemed to break any rules about acceptable concentration of people, air hot and stuffy. By the time he had reached the terrace, he was drenched in sweat and cursing himself for coming here. No one would notice him and spontaneously decided to give him the lead role in the newest movie- those things happened only in, well, movies. After an average success of a romantic comedy for teenagers he should be running from one audition to another, not spend time on random parties.

Chris sighed. Apart from the host, an absolutely lovely model and photographer in one, who was spending the whole evening in a possessive embrace of her fiancé, he didn’t know anyone. Any desire to make polite and meaningless small talks vanished as soon as he entered the house. The only reason he hadn’t left yet was the glass of wine he clutched in his hand and prayed not to spill at someone more important in the business than him.

The terrace welcomed him with pleasant coolness, the noises of the party staying behind the closed door. Chris put his glass on the balustrade, leaned his elbows on it and breathed in deeply. The air was fresh, pleasantly cooling his overheated skin.

Chris couldn’t help but sighing again. More and more often he thought that the time of having fun on parties was left far behind. Parties tented to be so much more fun when there were people to enjoy them with. Or when he didn’t treat most of the people as potential employers/coworkers and tried very hard to leave good impression.

The clink of a glass being put close to him tore him out of his reverie. He glanced to the side, expecting the glorious blonde who gave him a meaningful look above her glass, but beside him stood a strange man. He wasn’t looking at Chris, his eyes fixed on the sky, the smoke from his cigarette curling lazily around him.

“Don’t you miss seeing stars?” the man asked without any preamble and Chris involuntary followed his gaze. The sky was almost orange colored, only a couple of stars visible- a view Chris was used to from childhood. His father took him and Katie camping, when Chris was four. The view of vast sky filled with bright points of light scared him and only his father’s strong embrace made sleep that night possible.

“I’m used to that,” Chris said slowly. He was used to being asked all kinds of question on parties but this one reminded him clearly of university times and those surreal moments between night and day spent in someone’s kitchen, surrounded by dirty glasses and food leftovers. “I was born here.”

The stranger finally turned to Chris and smiled, looking vaguely familiar. “I’m from Pittsburgh.” He stretched out his hand which Chris automatically shook. “Zachary Quinto. I think I saw you jogging a couple of times.”

“Chris Pine,” Chris offered and gave the man a little more careful look. Some really longs legs, a pair of magnificent eyebrows, artistically tousled hair… If it wasn’t for the elegant suit and lack of  thick rimmed glasses… Of course, the owner of an endless collection of ugly tank tops and randomly appearing headbands, as well as an overgrown puppy.

“You have a dog!” he said and bit his tongue before he could blurt the rest of his associations. Zachary might have seemed approachable but insulting wardrobe choices couldn’t be a good start of any acquaintance.

Zachary offered him an easy smile, thankfully unaware of Chris’s thought process. “I wasn’t mistaken, then. Nice seeing a neighbor here.”

“Yes!” Chris surprised himself with the amount of excitement in his voice, but he’d seen Zachary walking with bleary eyes and hair that weren’t touched by comb.  It made him ten times more familiar than almost anyone else in this house, someone safe who didn’t need to be treated as potential coworker, or, worse, opponent. Even though the mere presence of Zachary was a clear indication of his links with the business.

Zachary turned toward the windows, his expression thoughtful. The sounds of music, talking and laughter were only slightly muffled and for a second Chris was sure that would be it. Surely Zachary would join the rest, seeing as he stubbed out his cigarette, but he looked back at Chris and opened his mouth.

Chris felt his stomach muscles tightening. If Zachary wasn’t leaving then the strange mood could be broken in only one way. Was it the moment when illusion would break and the hateful but ever present question about current projects made its appearance?

 “You don’t enjoy the party,” Zachary observed instead. “You weren’t simply enjoying fresh air.”

“I…” Chris paused for a moment but then let the words flow freely. “I feel like all this events are so tightly connected with work that without getting completely hammered no one is really enjoying them.”

But it could be just the fact I’m fucking up every audition, he didn’t add, having a weird intuition Zachary could hear it nevertheless. He smiled.

“What about you?”

Zachary shrugged. “I’ve got curious of lonely, mysterious stranger who was wasting a glass of delicious Merlot by not drinking it.”

Chris blinked.

“Try it at least,” Zachary gestured toward the glass before Chris could decide if Zachary was flirting and what should be his response. He quickly took the glass the spare himself the necessity of answering. A rich taste hit his tongue and he smacked his lips, trying to recognize all the shades of it.

“Rosemary?” he didn’t realize he closed his eyes until he opened them to a searching gaze of Zachary’s dark eyes.

“Rosemary,” he agreed. ‘Boysenberry, pine, chocolate and vanilla. That’s all I can taste.”

Chris found himself staring with his mouth opened. He had always enjoyed good wine but his knowledge and tasting abilities were quite limited. To the point where the most decisive factor in buying a wine was the prize. The second to the lowest before “Princess Diaries”, something in the middle nowadays. People who had _knowledge_ about things they drink and eat always fascinated him.

“Do you know which wine should accompany sea food and which under no circumstance can be served with fruit salad?” Chris asked involuntary, his brain functioning not at his best capacity, but Zachary didn’t run away, only grinned.

“Oh, yes,” he announced with such satisfaction and conviction in his voice, that Chris frowned. Did he just discovered something Zachary was inherently proud of, or being so satisfied with himself was simply his personal trait? Either way he seemed absolutely adorable with this huge grin and Chris became acutely aware he wanted to see him again. He raised his glass in toast.

“To the future,” he said and Zachary clinked his mostly empty glass against his with a smile on his face.

“To the future.”


	3. The Chardonnay

**Sydney 2009**

Australia was Fun, with capital F, with all the sunshine, a lot of extremely blue water and the famous Sydney Opera House. It made Chris feel all giddy and excited, despite the fact they were bound to spend a lot of time in dark rooms with various interviewers asking the same questions in different manners. Evenings were theirs, though, and ocean never had looked so promising to Chris. A small corner shop offered a vast choice of local wines and after five minutes of standing in front of the shelves Chris took one at random.

 “Hey,” he didn’t bother to knock and barged to Zach’s room with a grin on his face and a bottle of wine snuggled to his chest. Zach gave up closing the door after Paris, when Chris spent 10 minutes knocking to his door in the middle of the night. “Since the weather is crazily…”

He fell silent, noticing the emptiness of the room and the telltale sound of flowing water coming from the bathroom. Any attempts to talk with Zach right now were useless so Chris flopped down on the bed and closed his eyes. Zachary had a tendency to behave as if water was to disappear from Earth any moment, and every shower was the last one. Chris sighed and stretched on the bed more comfortably, noticing with dismay that his bed seemed less soft, and prepared himself for a long wait.

A sound of footsteps raised him from his position, the strong light of switched on chandelier making him temporally blind.

“Oh, hey man,” Zachary said while Chris sat on his bed, blinking furiously. “You brought wine.”

“Yeah,” Chris finally managed to get his eyes to properly work again and froze on his spot on the bed. Zachary was currently bend over his suitcase wearing only a carelessly draped over his hips towel. Which did exactly nothing to cover his ass.

A very nicely shaped ass. Not that Chris hadn’t notice it earlier, with Zachary’s love of skinny jeans, the Spock’s outfit and the memorable party in Berlin. Yet, seeing it right in front of him while he was sober, only loosely covered, the skin pale and looking smooth to touch, took Chris’s breath away. He could see himself reaching, cupping it with both hands, checking how it feels under his fingers…

“Why I packed only two pairs of jeans? I will stink before this madness ends,” Zach groaned from over his suitcase, effectively ruining the mood. Chris forced his eyes away from the rich expanses of Zachary’s pale skin and focused on the much safer landscape that could be seen through the window.

“I was going to propose a night trip to the beach, you don’t exactly need jeans for that.”

“Are you suggesting I should sneak out of the hotel like this?” Zach asked incredulously. “You know that from two of us I’m the one lacking the exhibitionist tendencies.”

Chris felt the betraying blush coloring his cheeks and neck. “If you’re talking about Paris, it proves nothing, I lost my bet with Anton!”

Zach finally turned to Chris, smirking like an evil character from Disney movie, his eyes filled with mirth. “I was thinking more along the lines of your obvious hate toward buttoning up most of your shirts, but thank you for reminding me about Paris, the fact that you lost a bet to underage will never cease to amuse. Not to mention fact that wasn’t part of the bet, just its consequence.”

Chris flopped back on the bed, both to express his disappointment and stop staring at his too naked friend. “What about the beach?”he asked finally after a proper time of pouting. He was too familiar with the Zachary Quinto experience to continue the argument anyway.

“I’m not sure,” Zach’s voice was muffled so Chris risked a glance. His head was currently stuck in a plain shirt, the lower parts of his body thankfully covered with a pair of black briefs.

“Come on,” Chris all but whined. “I searched for a shop to buy this wine!”

“If I remember correctly there’s a shop on the corner of our street,” Zach finally untangled himself from the shirt, his hair sticking in every direction, a wide smile on his face. Chris gave him his most effective “if you love me, you will do it” expression, the one that worked even on Katie.

“Yet I’m sure your quest almost ended in your death,” Zach sighed, looking at Chris, his eyes widening a little. “Okay, lend me some pants so we could grace the beach with our presence and get scandalously drunk on this awful wine.”

Chris jumped off the bed before Zach could get a chance to change his mind and almost run to his room. Sacrificing a pair of jeans for a great evening was a fair price. They hanged loosely on Zach’s hips- Chris was still working on losing his Kirk’s figure but Zach mercifully stayed silent about it.  

There were a couple of people on the beach but after walking a couple of yards they found themselves far from any of them. The air was fresh, the way it gets only on summer nights, and Chris breathed in deeply.

Zachary flopped down on the still warm sand, paying no attention to the borrowed jeans.

“It is lovely,” he said quietly, looking at the vast expanses of the ocean before them.

“Yeah,” Chris sat a little more careful beside him and buried his hand in the sand, feeling the smoothness of sand grains under his fingertips. He looked up, at the stars above them, clearly visible despite the city lights and smiled. Answering millions of boring questions were worth moments like this. Chris doubted he could ever get tired of going around the world with a group of great people to promote things he was proud of.

“What about the wine?” Zach asked, typically leaving the hard job of opening the wine to Chris, who only shook his head and reached for the wine. A minute later he gasped; his frantic search for corkscrew was unnecessary.

“Dude, it has a cap instead of a cork!”

The look Zach gave him was of a complete astonishment. “You managed to find a wine closed with a cap in a shop that close to a luxurious hotel?” he repeated with a slight awe in his voice but promptly started laughing. “Your face, you look as if Christmas just got cancelled. Give it to me.”

He reached for the bottle, their fingers touching for a moment a little longer than strictly necessary, opened it and took a sip. “I think…” he took another sip, his expression thoughtful, grimaced and smacked his lips. “Yes, Chris, you managed to buy wine worse than the one we had in Moscow. Congratulations.”

The smile he offered Chris was wide and happy any traces of exhaustion gone from his face. Chris almost felt proud of his inability to buy a decent wine but he protested out of habit. “It’s a chardonnay! Isn’t it supposed be a good wine?”

Zach groaned in a pretended annoyance. “Your genius price based system didn’t work. Again.”

Chris flailed his arm in uncoordinated gesture. “The prices are in Australian dollars!”

“Which, I assume, is beyond your mathematic abilities?” Zachary raised his eyebrow, in a rare display of inner Spock.

“Come on,” Chris all but whined.”I was English major, I didn’t have to think about all this details only read books!”

Zachary laughed loudly and took another sip before giving Chris another smile, a smaller but utterly happy one. Chris scooted closer and took the bottle put of Zach’s hand, this time deliberately brushing his fingers along Zach’s, who sighed with contentment and looked back to the ocean.

“I was planning to sleep at least eight hours today,” he said slowly while Chris took his sip of the wine, its sour taste making him cough. “I’m glad you didn’t let me sleep.”

“Yeah, I’m glad to,” Chris muttered and looked back at the still vastness of the ocean before them, shining silverly in the moonlight. “Moments like this… They are my favorite.”

Zachary reached toward him but instead of taking the bottle he squeezed Chris’s hand, silent. His eyes never left the view in front of them.


	4. Unidentified wine on the flight L.A.- NYC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking about chapter tittles that totally sucks... Khem.

**NYC, September  2009**

„Chris?!” Zach gave him a suspicious once over but seemed to draw a conclusion no mistake was possible. “What are you doing… Come in!”

Frankly speaking Chris was lucky to catch him in the apartment at such a time. According to their last phone calls Zach was spending most of his free time searching for perfect colors, materials and furniture for his apartment. Whenever Chris called half of the conversation was about the most suitable colors for bedroom walls. Chris blinked, realizing he drifted for a moment. Zach was staring at him with mixture of anticipation and worry.

"Chris?"

"Hey," Chris finally broke the stubborn silence, acutely aware he’s behaving strangely. He swallowed and wiped his sweating hands on jeans, once again in loss of words.

“Curious and curiouser,” Zach murmured under his nose, his gaze almost painful in its intensity.

“I…” Chris paused. I jumped on the earliest possible flight to ask you if you wanted to kiss me nearly month ago when we were both drunk? Not the best way of voicing thoughts. “Did you buy this cerulean paint for the bedroom?”

Zachary blinked and promptly repeated the action as if convinced Chris would vanish into thin air, instead of standing in the middle of the corridor.

“There are two possible explanations,” Zach said slowly when Chris stubbornly insisted on staying present. “Either I went insane and I’m talking to an empty corridor or you went insane and flew to NYC to ask me what color I chose for my bedroom. Both options suck. Chris?”

His tone was light but the searching gaze of his dark eyes made it clear he was only half-joking. Chris shifted from one foot to the other.

 “I needed,” he waved his hand in vague gesture, knowing how meaningless it is. “You know, I always wanted to live in New York, if it wasn’t for “Princess Diaries” I would.”

“Right…” Zachary gave him one more suspicious look. Was he searching for symptoms of taking drugs? Chris’s mum used to tell them to him when he was a teenager as a warning. He ended up reciting them all to Zach during particularly hard mornings on the set, when even discussion about Proust couldn’t soothe the pain of spending over two hours tortured by the make-up artists.

 “Am I interrupting something? Sorry I didn’t call, it was a spur of a moment, I can go, are you expecting somebody?” the sudden words vomit surprised even him, alarms in his brain wailing and flashing red lights.

“No, no!” Zachary reached forward as if wanting to catch Chris but aborted the gesture in half. “Come on in, let’s not stand in the corridor! You don’t have any luggage?”

“Oh.” Acting on the pure desire to finally end the waiting Chris left L.A. with nothing more than his wallet, phone and keys, a huge part of him convinced that lack of luggage would make running from Zach’s apartment much more efficient.

“Sit,” Zach gestured on a couch. Three weeks ago Chris helped him in choosing it via monstrous numbers of photos and three dramatic phone calls, two of them interrupting his beauty sleep.

“It looks nice,” he offered now and sat gingerly, feeling his heart fluttering in his chest. The deeply brown material was smooth and cool under his hands.

The sudden awkwardness was absolutely new. They’d always felt at ease with each other, ever since their weird first conversation on the terrace. Yet know Chris wished for something that would ease the atmosphere. A sudden call from his mother, a car crash, apocalypse- anything could do.

“Chris,” Zachary sat across him, his steady gaze searching. “I’m very happy to see you, but can you explain why are you here?”

Chris changed his position, the anxiety making staying motionless impossible. Zach inhaled sharply; it seemed like Chris’s nervousness was contagious.

“I’m hungry,” Chris announced hopelessly. “Aren’t you hungry? I can eat pizza now without Mike wanting to kill me or actually killing me with the work out.” He fished his phone out of the pocket, dimly aware he doesn’t know where to call.

 “Let me call,” Zach said gently and took the phone from his hand. “The usual for you?”

The waiting for pizza felt like awaiting execution. Chris couldn’t stop wiping  his sweating hand on his own tight while Zachary changed position every five seconds, resembling more and more a human pretzel. The door bell sounded like angelic choir. Zachary tripped over his own feet in the haste to get the door and judging by the astonished sounds tipped the pizza delivery man three times above the usual.

Chris wandered to the kitchen and methodically searched for the cutlery, forcing himself to breathe deeply and slowly. By now Zachary seemed a step from calling Katie and informing her about sudden madness of her baby brother. He turned when Zach entered the kitchen.

“I, well…” he paused, breathed deeply, stepped closer and took the pizza box out of Zach’s arms, his fingers dragging across his hand in a very deliberate manner. Zach’s breath hitched.

Chris’s heart made a weird, medically inexplicable thing in his chest. He spent last month continuously questioning himself and their last meeting. Did Zachary wanted to kiss him or did he simply miscalculated a little, took a one step too much? On the best of days Zach managed to stay a little bit mysterious, the perplexing mix of a dork and a sex god with envious erudition skills. Any attempts to understand reason of his behavior when he was drunk were doomed from the beginning. Though it could be just Chris’s inability to read people, there was a reason he had never thought about becoming a therapist, despite his family new tradition.

Now, though, with Zachary looking at him with pupils dilated enough to make his eyes appear black, Chris was almost sure.

He took a short step closer, his eyes fixed on Zach’s lips who licked them reflexively. That was all the encouragement Chris needed.

Zach’s lips were as soft as Chris always imagined, the stubble covering his cheeks even harsher in comparison. For a blink of an eye only their mouth touched, in a gentlest of kisses but Zach didn’t let it last too long. He grasped Chris tightly, his left hand finding its way under Chris’s tee shirt, warm and soft as it moved along the spine. Chris gasped, opening his mouth which Zach immediately took advantage of, his tongue warm and exploratory.

Zoe didn’t lie when she claimed Zachary was a good kisser.

Chris tangled his fingers in Zach’s hair, enjoying the silkish smoothness of them. Zachary murmured something incoherent, without breaking the kiss and took a step, forcing them across the kitchen until Chris’s back collided with wall.

His elbow caught on a kitchen calendar but with Zach’s leg between his not even an apocalypse could stop him. He licked along the jaw line, the harshness of the stubble weirdly satisfying, even though it made his chapped lips tingle. Zach’s breathing became heavier, less steady when suddenly he stepped back.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his lips wet and swollen. Chris couldn’t help but be thankful the wall beside him, the only reason he was still standing.

“Zach?” he whispered breathlessly, his stomach twisting in panic until he heard the familiar sound of Zach’s phone. The look Zachary gave him pleaded for forgiveness so he simply nodded his head.

“Yes?” he was a little breathless and Chris felt a stupid surge of pride. “Yes, I remember. Of course. One hour? Right, on my way.”

“You have to go on the set,” Chris shook his head. “And my flight is in less than two hours.”

The look Zach gave him was filled with incredulity.

“I just went to the airport and then I thought what if I’m horribly wrong so I bought return ticket,” Chris admitted unwillingly and leaned into Zach’s hand.

“We need to talk,” Zach murmured and kissed him lightly. “But not today. Today drink a toast for us on the flight back.”

Chris smiled.

“I will,” he promised.


	5. The Riesling

**New York, October 2009**

 

„It’s fucking cold,” Chris whined and curled more into himself, fiercely imagining his leather jacket hanging neatly in the wardrobe nearly 3000 miles away. Maybe his will of force could bring it to him, so he wouldn’t be on mercy of the cold wind and the biting drizzle in nothing more than a button up shirt. “I could stay in your apartment, what am I even doing outside?”

Zach, safe in his multiple and unmatching layers of clothes, simply smirked in answer and grabbed Noah’s lash a little more tightly, preventing him from sniffing the passing by them woman.

“You refused to borrow any of my clothes,” he reminded Chris smugly. “Just five more minutes,” he added when Chris hunched his shoulder even more, risking a bad case of neck cringe. “It was you, who insisted on accompanying me anyway.”

It was said with a smile- they both knew Chris wouldn’t let him go alone, not after over one month passed since their last meeting.

Now, with glasses wet from the insistently dripping water and shivering slightly he wasn’t so sure if fifteen minutes without Zachary around would be as painful as walking around blocks. The dogs were in turns sniffing and peeing under every tree on their way, with enthusiasm and indifference toward weather Chris could be only jealous of. Sighing, he wiped his glasses with a sleeve and smiled, noticing the small shop they bought a local Riesling five months ago. Zach was so excited about it as if New York was his home town and was practically bouncing while Chris paid for it, shaking his head over the ridiculous price. Or rather what he thought be ridiculous price until they tasted it, over a game of Scrabble on the floor of Zach’s living room. Chris lost it with frankly embarrassing number of points.

“Let’s buy a celebratory wine,” Chris motioned toward the shop. “If I’m going to suffer from a common cold I as well do it while drinking good wine.”

“Isn’t it where we bought the Riesling?” Zachary stopped dead in his track. “I tried to find this shop forever, I swear it exists only when you’re in the city!”

He unceremoniously threw dogs lashes to Chris and marched to the shop with a determination a man dying from thirst on a desert would go toward an oasis. Chris only sighed, forced the dogs to stay motionless with a practice born out of necessity and resign himself to waiting.

Surprisingly enough Zach appeared less than five minutes later, triumphantly, holding a paper bag with care suggesting he’s carrying the world’s most precious cargo rather than a bottle or two of 350$ wine. Chris sneezed.

Luckily enough even the dogs agreed a quick return to home is required, as the drizzle transformed into a grown-up rain. They made to Zach’s apartment in little over ten minutes, with Chris shivering and his teeth chattering.

Changing into dry clothes and curling under the fluffiest blanket Zachary could offer didn’t really help. Chris continued feeling as if he went for a walk naked in the middle of the winter, rather than got a drenched in autumn New York rain.

“Hey,” Zachary sat beside him, his expression changing from fondness to worry as he noticed the full body shiver.

“New York sucks,” Chris murmured and sneezed again. “I unsay anything I said about wanting to live here.”

“You are just spoiled by L.A. weather,” Zach chastised but shifted closer and put his hand around Chris, blissfully warm. 

“The wine, it will freeze if you won’t  take it out,” Chris reminded absentmindedly while scooting a little closer, his chilled muscles finally relaxing. Zach seemed to hesitate but he sneaked under the blanket just a second later and embraced Chris with desperate determination, sighing softly into Chris’s damp hair.

“I missed you,” he whispered, the words muffled and rushed as if they escaped without permission. They didn’t talk about feelings, phone calls weren’t intimate enough and Chris couldn’t help but be scared of this particular topic. Now, snuggled in Zach’s arms, feeling truly warm for the first time since he set his foot on LaGuardia, he felt perfectly happy and safe.

“We are getting old,” he mumbled into the soft cotton of Zach’s shirt. “Old and sappy.”

Zach’s chest vibrated with laughter under Chris’s cheek, the lean muscles tensing. He must had been working out when Chris was away. They were usually similar in physical strength , the countless arm wrestling on the set of Star Trek the proof of that. Now Chris realized Zachary could probably overpower him if he wanted. He shivered, not with cold but freshly awoken desire.

“Hmm?” Zachary murmured incoherently, his nose buried in Chris’s wet hair. “What are you doing?”

When Chris continued his maneuvers he let him stride his lap, the blanket landing on the floor, not longer needed. Zach instinctively caught Chris by hips so he wouldn’t share the blanket’s fate and they froze, looking at each other.

“Hey,” Chris finally said, a little shyly, his usual easiness gone. Zach’s face was so close, only inches apart, for the first time since the  mere hour they spent together over a month ago.

Zach smiled in answer, his expression fond. “Hey,” he agreed quietly.

Chris blinked, absentmindedly wondering if Zach always had that many eyelashes before or was it a recent development. Maybe he was exercising them, like did with his muscles?

Zach took deep breath and reached for Chris’s glasses, his fingers brushing lightly against the temples. He put them away with care and leaned even closer, their lips almost touching. Chris licked his lips reflexively, the whole world blurry save for the dark eyes framed with frankly unfair number of eyelashes.

“I missed you too,” Chris confessed finally, a breathless whisper, and Zachary leaned to him. The touch of his mouth on Chris’s was chaste, hesitant but Chris moaned helplessly into it, undone by the simple press of lips. Zach’s fingers found their way into his hair, tangling them in loose strands, pulling lightly. Chris gasped and opened his mouth which Zach immediately took an advantage of, biting lightly his lower lip, just a brush of teeth but enough to go straight to Chris’s groin.

“You like it,” Zachary murmured against his mouth, his voice low and husky. “I could have expected that.”

Chris yanked on his shirt in answer, thankful that Zachary decided to lose most of his layers upon entering the apartment. He needed to touch the bare skin, to check how it tastes, lick all the way from nipples to…

Oh. The gentle bite on the side of his neck made all his blood run down. He grinded against the other man, eliciting a gasp so delicious that he continued the movement, planting open mouthed kisses along the jaw. Zach’s stumble scratched his chapped lips and he leaned back, laughing, trusting Zach to prevent him from falling off his lap.

Zachary used the unguarded moment with no mercy and Chris landed on the couch on his back with soft  “Oh”, his eyes wide. Zach was really stronger than him in the moment. He arched, brushing his cock against the other man’s hip but Zachary moved away, breathing heavily, his eyes focused entirely on Chris.

“You are perfect like this,” he whispered. “Perfect and mine.”

Chris’s sweatpants and briefs could have ripped in the process of getting them off but neither of them cared, their touches frantic and impatient. The simple of pleasure of simply having each other in arms disappeared- they wanted to lick, taste, leave a mark…

When Zach swallowed Chris’s cock it was without any warning, his finger pressed tightly into hips, strongly enough to leave bruises but Chris didn’t care. His awareness of the world shrunk to the wet touch of Zach’s mouth, to the almost obscene soft gasps he made. The familiar tension of fastly approaching orgasm started building in his lower abdomen and he tugged at Zach’s hair helplessly. After another, extremely effective, lick around the head Zachary let go of him and crouched on his heels, his hands still placed on Chris’s hips.

“I…” Chris’s brain was empty, all the words disappeared somewhere. Could they get sucked out?

“Shhh,” Zach leaned and kissed him, his mouth swollen and wet. “Let me.”

When he swallowed him again the last coherent thought in Chris’s mind was: _The wine must have frozen by now._


	6. The Shiraz

**August 2007, L.A.**

Zoe demanded a ‘Get to know before the shooting starts’ party, known otherwise as ‘We need to get drunk together’ party as soon as Chris was casted. She claimed that since they have their captain now, then there’s no need to wait, making Chris firmly believe he needs to be the party host. Even though his apartment resembled a student’s nest more than anything else. Luckily, JJ gave him a terrified look and pretended he had had plans from this certain evening since year 1990, and all the scriptwriters followed his lead. It left seven people, currently crowding Chris’s tiny apartment, and drinking copious amounts of alcohol of various kind and strength.

 “Would you stop running for a moment? I’m too old to raise my legs so many times during one evening,” Karl demanded, forced to take his legs out of the Chris’s way for the fifth time in half an hour. “We’ll spend next couple of months together, might as well get casual from the beginning,” he gave Chris a warning look. “Which means that if Zach wants more wine he can go and get it by himself. Unless you have a meth lab in your kitchen you don’t want us to know about.”

“He’d have to open a new one!” Chris protested and scrambled to his feet, only to be stopped by Zach himself.

“I’m perfectly capable of opening a bottle of wine,” he informed Chris with a charming smile. “Anyone needs anything?”

“More nuts!” Zoe demanded from her spot on the floor. Chris blinked. She was sitting on a pillow from his bed and, considering he hadn’t have even one glass of anything yet, he should have remembered giving it to her.

“Why you can move away for Zach but not for me?” Chris groaned and flopped back on the couch, taking up Zach’s spot as well as his own. “You have some secret agenda.”

“Obviously,” Zoe changed her position on the pillow into something resembling loosely a human pretzel.  Were the whole cast weirdly flexible? Chris shot suspicious glance at John but he seemed perfectly content with a sitting position of a normal human being.

“We need to get you drunk,” John shifted under Chris’s scrutiny but gave him  wide smile. “We are here for three hours and you haven’t even touched a drink!”

“We’re just protecting you,” Zoe continued happily. “Playing social games in our age is possible only under heavy influence. Unless you like to suffer…”

“Karl!?” Zachary called from the kitchen with a slight despair in his voice. “Free Chris for a second, I need him!”

The smirk Zoe gave Chris was full of hidden meanings, which Chris could have easily discover if only he wasn’t rushing to the kitchen, almost tripping over empty beer bottle. His entrance could be easily described as a primary example of embarrassing.

Zach turned abruptly, looking a little surprised, from the open kitchen closet and gave him a smile.

“Sorry, looks like I am not capable of opening a bottle of wine after all. Well, not without a corkscrew.”

His hair were tousled, the stripped sweater he was wearing to warm for the current weather and frankly speaking quite ridiculous, and Chris forced himself to stop looking using all the strong will in his possession. The kitchen suddenly seemed even smaller than during any food preparations. And Chris tends to end up with at least one bruise, usually on his right elbow.

“It,” he cleared his throat, acutely aware he was blushing. “It should be somewhere, I opened last bottle no more than twenty minutes ago.”

Zach sighed and turned back to the kitchen cabinet, as if sticking out his ass could help with finding the lost object. Chris very pointedly looked around, his brain not cooperating as obediently as it should. Not to mention his eyes which tried to squinting at parts of Zach’s body absolutely against Chris’s will.

“It’s not here,” Zach turned back, his eyes dark and positively magnetic. And devilish. Chris almost whimpered, acutely aware how not drunk he is. Suddenly opening a battle of wine with a knife seemed like a good idea. As well as drinking it all at once, right here in the kitchen, with Zach’s eyes fixed on him.

Chris swallowed and took a step back, hitting the cupboard handle with his hipbone. This time a little whimper did escape his mouth but Zach’s attention switched elsewhere. The lost corkscrew was laying on the floor, millimeters away from Chris’s bare foot.

For a second the whole world froze- like in the action movies, when the bullet cuts the air in a slow motion before hitting the villain right in the head. Or at least Chris felt like it, Zach’s elegant fingers slowly descending toward the innocent object. Chris’s stomach muscles tightened in anticipation but Zach didn’t even brush his feet, swiftly catching the corkscrew.

He took a deep breath, desperately hoping he wasn’t as red as he felt.

“Since I dragged you here anyway, which wine we should open now?” Zach didn’t seem to notice Chris’s confusion, as he turned back to the collection of bottle standing proudly on the counter. Chris made sure to actually take his sister with him for the wine hunting, deciding that he may survive a never ending flow of comments for the possibility of having decent wine for the party.

“Hey?” Zach was looking at him, frowning. Clearly, he noticed Chris unusual colors. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I…” Chris took a deep breath, unsure what he wants to say next. “I’m going crazy because you’re standing in my kitchen?” “Why didn’t you touch my feet, you were so close?” “Please turn around and stick your ass out?”

Every proposition coming from his brain was worse than the previous one, so Chris shut his mouth tightly, hoping for some kind of deus ex machina way of escaping.

“Hey!” Zoe could be surprisingly loud when she wanted to. “Where are the nuts?”

Some god apparently still listened to ordinary humans’ prayers, or Chris was simply lucky.

“Moment!” he grabbed unopened pack of mixed nuts from the counter and practically fled to the living room, the skin of his cheeks hot and most probably red enough to be noticed even in the dim lighting.

He throw the nuts into the general direction of Zoe and jumped on the couch, avoiding looking at Karl or anyone else crowded in his tiny apartment.

He had to calm down before Zach comes back from the kitchen, before his crazy mind forces him to say or act in a manner he’d regret for the rest of his life.

One, two, three breathes. Is Zoe observing him carefully, or is she looking at the collection of family photos on the wall behind him? Why Karl seems to be laughing inside? And where the hell is Zach, who should leave the kitchen long time ago?

“So,” he said, when he quite sure his voice wouldn’t shake. “Doesn’t “get to know” parties include embarrassing social games?”

“They certainly do,” Zach finally appeared in the room, with an opened bottle of wine and an empty glass. “But first we need to drink at least half of the reserve you have stocked in your kitchen.”

Chris swallowed. Zach didn’t seem to be looking at him strangely, his posture relaxed, smile on his lips. Yet, the gaze of dark eyes was intense, leaving almost a physical impression on his skin.

“Move over,” Zach requested and sat next to Chris, easily fitting in, his leg touching Chris’s. He put the glass into Chris’s hand and quickly filled it with wine.

“Shiraz, I hope you like it,” he said quietly, his eyes again catching Chris’s full attention. He then took his own glass and knocked it with Chris’s in a toast.

“For good shooting?” he half-asked, half-said, unnamed emotions filling his eyes. Chris’s breath caught for a second, the situation weirdly intimate despite the room full of almost unknown people around them that could become his friends or disappear after half a year from his life.

He smiled. “For the best of shooting”, he answered.

Shiraz hit his tongue with spicy taste of black pepper and delicious note of blackcurrant.

 

 

 


End file.
